


No More Lonely Nights

by LittleMissPixieStix



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Sexual Tension, sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissPixieStix/pseuds/LittleMissPixieStix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Female Sniper x Female Spy - </p><p>It was just a game.  </p><p>That was what the Spy kept telling herself.  Teasing that RED Sniper, and all her bared midriff glory, was just a game.  It was to gain the advantage, to unsettle the other woman.  It was only for the Spy’s benefit, and possibly for her amusement.</p><p>It wasn’t so that she was sitting up in her bed at some ungodly hour, smoking a cigarette, thinking about the other woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Lonely Nights

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this fic on Tumblr here: http://littlemissfemscout.tumblr.com/post/135420012362/no-more-lonely-nights  
> Likes and reblogs are appreciated, but by no means required.

It was just a game.  

That was what the Spy kept telling herself.  Teasing that RED Sniper, and all her bared midriff glory, was just a game.  It was to gain the advantage, to unsettle the other woman.  It was only for the Spy’s benefit, and possibly for her amusement.

It wasn’t so that she was sitting up in her bed at some ungodly hour, smoking a cigarette, thinking about the other woman.

Considering that there were only eighteen people out here, it was likely that the Spy’s mind would wander that way.  Besides her own team, that Sniper was the person she spent the most time with.  

Whether it was finding her out at her camper in the off-hours or finding her nest in the heat of battle, Spy was more often than not hounding the other woman.

Things had been different recently.  The Spy had started genuinely started looking forward to those times that she was taunting the Aussie, only if it meant that she was around the other.  

It had been the Sniper’s look of annoyance that fueled her, but now it was the chance that a smile might crack on those dry lips that provided more inspiration for the Frenchwoman.  

She lolled her head back, attempting to loosen up the tenseness in her neck, as she blew out a breath of smoke.  Her white button-down was loose on the top three buttons, her jacket and vest tossed over a chair, but she couldn’t remember undressing at all.  At least her blue slacks were still on.  

She was normally uptight, fully aware of everything she was doing and controlling every step of it.  Now, when she let her mind wander towards that beautiful blond, she found herself losing control, unaware of what she was doing or where her hands were wandering.  It was unsettling at times, though enjoyable at others.  

Here, in the privacy of her bedroom, she could at least let loose and pretended that it wasn’t her own hand fondling her chest.  That it wasn’t just her fingers trailing down her flat stomach, teasing the inside of her thigh, it was someone else’s.

And she knew exactly who she wanted it to be.

Normally, the Spy was the heart-breaker.  She would only let someone close so that she could break them later, taking enjoyment out of the way a man’s face would fall when she laughed and pushed him away.  It had been easy for her, she had never been attracted to any of them.

Little did she know that she swung the other way, and would find herself the lovesick one of the two.  

It was never supposed to be like this.

It had just been a game.

And she wasn’t supposed to have ended up being the loser.  She was supposed to have been on top, never on the bottom.

Sighing, the Spy sat up, taking a peek out the window.  The night was bright, with the full moon and the stars fighting for attention.  The desert nights were beautiful, with each one looking as pretty as a picture.  Thankfully, the night was cool, meaning that this damned mask wasn’t annoying her.

Stroking at the material, she wondered briefly that, if she were ever to take it off in front of the Sniper, would the lady accept what there was to be found underneath it.

The only parts of the Spy’s face that were exposed were her blue eyes and teasing red lips.  Would the Sniper be interested in a lady who’s hair was black as night?  It would be a lovely contrast to the Sniper’s own dusty blonde coif.

Sleep wouldn’t be coming to the Spy tonight.  Her mind was too busy thinking of things that were to never be, wondering about the outcome of situations that would never arise.  

It was going to be a long lonely night, with only monsieur Sauvignon blanc and madame Gauloises, her trust wine and cigarettes to keep her company.

Just before the Spy resigned herself to a night a drinking and smoking, she took one more glance out the window,  It was then that she noticed a curl of smoke gently floating into the air.  

So the Sniper was also awake tonight?  

What a lovely coincidence.  Perhaps she’d want company.  It was always more enjoyable to be suffering with some company, rather than alone.  

Usually, though, Spy was the company and not the sufferer.  What a troublesome turn of events.

Before the Spy was aware of what she was doing, she was pulling her vest and jacket, and half running, as quietly as she could, down the halls out of the base.  That damned autopilot syndrome was taking over again, taking her to the cause of all her problems, even if it meant that she wouldn’t be lonely tonight.  If she had her way, if her dreams came true, there’d be no more lonely nights.

Then she was there, just like that, feeling awkward, a foreign feeling to the suave Spy.  She was standing in the desert sand, right near the camper and normally the Sniper, before she knew what she was going to say.

Hello?  No, what a horrible opener.

Want some company? Too casual, too needy.

May I go down on you? Too polite, among other thigns.

Thankfully, while the Spy was debating a typical greeting, asking for an Australian kiss, or cloaking and heading back to her base, the Sniper spotted her.

“Blood ‘ell, what’re ya’ doin’ up, Spookaburra?”

Ah, there was that nickname.  

Spy had hated that nickname when the Sniper first started to use it, but recently she had grown fond of it.  

It was stupid, it was rude, but it was something that Sniper had given only the Spy, and that made it all the more special, even as moronic as it was.

“Could not sleep, saw you were up, walked over.” She admittedly.

“Brought a bottle of wine with you,” the Sniper observed, “Usually not something that you take on a casual stroll.”

“I thought it would be romantic,” The Spy said, her tone switching to one of teasing.  If she couldn’t fulfill her romantic wishes, then there was no reason that she couldn’t utilize them to unsettle the Sniper.  They were still enemies after all.

The Spy was the one who was unsettled, though.  The Sniper merely looked at the Spy, her yellow tinted glasses not blocking her green eyes for once.

“Booze is booze,” Sniper said, “Care to share or have ya’ grown fond of it?”

“I brought it to share,” Spy huffed, “If you keep with that attitude, then I might have to take that back.”

“Nah, wait, Spooka, I’m just joshin’ ya’.  Don’t take the drink away,” Sniper said, “Have a seat.  I’ll get some cups.”

“You dirty lush.” Spy said, taking a seat as Sniper went into the camper, “Is there anything you won’t do for a drink?”

“Haven’t found out yet,” Sniper called out, her voice coming out of the camper, “Haven’t found a reason ta’ say no.”

Spy debated daring the woman to kiss her for a drink, but decided against it.  That was hardly romantic.  Rather, it’d be like crossing off a task from a checklist; completed yes, but hardly enjoyed.

Instead, her her next remark was one of concern, more than she would have wanted to let on.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Sniper paused in the doorway of her camper, caught off-guard by either the question or the tone.  Maybe both of them, actually.

“Why ya’ askin’?  ‘Cause m’ middle’s got nothin; on it?” She asked, indicating her bare midriff, “Don’t worry, I’m naturally warm.  Probably from livin’ down under.”

‘Are you implying that you have a reservoir of warmth inside you?”

“Yeah.  Guess that’s what it is, eh?” Sniper asked with a laugh, taking her seat once more.

“Don’t you ever get burned there?”

“Nah, bein in the outback’s sun for so long’s gotten me ready for the desert sun.”

“It’s the same sun.  You do realize that, yes?” Spy asked.

“Australia’s the closest ya’ can get to the sun from earth.”

“I’m not certain about that fact either.”

“You should see Australia some time,” Sniper said, handing the Spy a cup, “Just don’t bring your knoife, you crazy backstabber.”

“I should?” Spy said, sensing an opportunity, “I’d love to.  But only if you go with me-”

“Course I’d go with ya’.  Wouldn’t trust your pasty ass to survive out there alone,” Sniper said, rubbing at her arms, “If the dingo’s didn’t get you, the heatstroke would.”

“I’m sensing the chill is getting to you.” Spy said, leaning forward and tugging at her jacket.

“Is not!” Sniper argued, “Was just caught off-guard by that breeze.”

“Here.  Take it,” Spy said, “offering the Sniper her jacket, “I may die of heatstroke without you, yes, but you would die of a chill without me.”

Sniper didn’t offer any retort, merely grumbling as she pulled on the thick coat.  It was warm, she did have to admit that.

“Better?” Spy asked smugly.

“Yeah.” Sniper replied grumpily.

“I know a better way to warm up,” Spy said, looking the Sniper in the eyes, “But it involves taking our clothes _off.”_

Sniper looked at her a moment, confused, but then her eyes widened as she seemed to realize what the other woman was implying.  She stood bolt upright and looked down at Spy, an unreadable expression on her face.

Spy immediately panicked, moving to stand up out of the chair, or at least fall backwards out of it, but the Sniper was holding onto her shoulder’s tightly and keeping the Frenchwoman in place.  The Aussie moved her face right up close to the Spy’s, and Spy’s heart hammered in her chest.  

Had the other woman finally gotten fed up with the teasing?  It had only been, what, once or twice tonight?  That wasn’t much.  And Spy had brought wine, which should have made it all okay.  Didn’t wine make everything okay?

Apparently not.

“You sayin’ you feel it too?” Sniper asked, her voice dipping into an arousing lever of speaking, “The butterfly’s and the bee’s, or whatever stupid thing they teach you in grade school?”

“Are you talking about sex or animals?” Spy asked, still looking for a get-away.

“I’m asking that if I gave you a wet one, would it be a pash or would ya’ knife me in m’back?”

“Pardon?”

“Ya’ like Old fella’s or Mappa Tassie’s better?” 

“English, please.”

“Sheila’s or blokes?” Sniper asked slowly, her grip getting tighter on Spy’s shoulders.

“Are you askin’ if I prefer woman?”

“Yeah,” Sniper said, a hint of annoyance in her voice, “I really have ta’ ask three different ways ta’ get it through yer’ head?”

“Out of all the languages I know, Australian was one I neglected to pick up.”

“Just answer the damn question, would ya’?” Sniper said, a slight growl in her tone.

“I do like woman,” Spy answered slowly.

“So it’s alright if I crack onto ya’?” Sniper asked.

Spy hesitated.

“...Yes?”

Before the Spy could say anything else, the Sniper pulled her into a kiss.  The camper chair gave up, and the two of them tipped over backwards, never breaking their lips apart.

Spy land face up in the sand, and the lanky Sniper was perched on top of her.

“Ya’ alright with this?” The Aussie asked, “Been fantisizing about ya’, yer smug o-face haunting my daydreams, and would hate ta’ be jumping the gun here.”

“No, this is...This is wonderful.” Spy said, “But can we lay flat at least?  This is bit uncomfortable.”

Sniper seemed to realize their position, and she stood up, offering the Spy a hand.  As soon as the Frenchwoman took it, the Sniper pulled her along.

“Into the camper, put out the fire, into the camper,” She said, helping the Spy into her camper, pausing only to extinguish the flames outside before she started to kindle some inside.

Sniper took of Spy’s jacked, depositing it on a table, before pulling the other woman into another kiss.  Her hand dipped low, playing with the smooth fabric between Spy’s legs, teasing Spy.

Spy knocked the Sniper hat off, grinning into the kiss as Sniper’s hand started to feel all around her body.  It was just like the fantasies she had been toying with, but better; this one was real.

As the Sniper started to unbutton her vest and blouse, her hand massaging Spy’s chest as her bra was unhooked, Spy let out a happy little moan.  There were kisses being trailed along her chest, and a mouth was soon engaged in pleasure in her chest while fingers teased further south.

Before her mind could catch up with everything, she was standing there, stark naked save for the mask, and Sniper was undressing quickly, ready to pick things back up and continue with this tryst of theirs..  

It had just been a game.

And it looked like they were going to start a round of a new game, one that was infinitely better.  A game where talking and teasing could dissolve into moaning and touches, where frustrations could be taken out in the bedroom in the best ways imaginable.

Let the games begin.


End file.
